Excuses
by RisemboolRanger
Summary: Drabble (Flash Fiction Project). Clessa's good at telling stories, which doesn't always lead to people believing what she tells them. But she's prepared to give any excuse possible to avoid having to admit to her true feelings. Pippin/OC


"So how come you're still here? I thought you couldn't wait to go off travelling again."

It had been nearly eight months since Clessa had been back at the Shire. She had an easily distractible personality - she'd try anything on a whim. Yet, once she'd started something, it wouldn't take long before she gave in and moved onto the next thing. That was just how her mind worked. She never stuck at anything for long and, usually, once she'd done it, she had little interest in doing it again.

Except for travelling. Once she'd gotten the idea into her head, Clessa had impulsively rushed off on her own, wanting to explore the world outside the Shire. To everyone's surprise, she'd fared just fine by herself and had made it back in one piece - she was known for being more than a little ditzy. Though she probably wouldn't have stayed on the road for so long if she hadn't gotten as horrifically lost as she had, travelling had turned out to be the one thing that she wanted to do again, which she'd iterated to everybody who'd listen.

Only that had been over seven months ago. Things had changed now. Though she was still completely enamoured by the idea of travelling the world again, she now had a reason to stay in the Shire too. But with the two hobbits that were sat in front of her, she couldn't admit what that reason was.

"Well, I still _want_ to go and travel more," Clessa hedged. "But I'm not sure if I want to go by myself again. I got very lost last time." There. That sounded like a good enough reason.

"But you said you met an elf and a dwarf outside the Shire, didn't you?" Merry pointed out. "You might meet more new people to join you on your travels."

Or maybe not. "Yeah, but, I wouldn't be able to get an ale as good as this anywhere else," Clessa tried instead, jokingly, toasting the flagon she'd been drinking from.

"Bilbo Baggins says men have more pubs than you could imagine!"

"Oh. I must have missed those..." Hmm, that hadn't worked either. "Well, the weather's starting to get colder now, so I think I'd be much better off waiting till summer..."

"Are you sure you did all those things you said?" Merry asked sceptically, eyebrows raised. "Because you seem to be making an awful lot of excuses to get out of going travelling again."

"Of course I did!" Clessa objected. She knew she sometimes tended to embellish on details a little, but she certainly hadn't invented an entire story. "Did you think I just hid outside the Shire for two months? Romanya and Moira were real - I didn't just make them up. What about the Mountains of Mirkwood? Do you think I made that up? Or the redwater river?"

"Okay, okay," Merry interrupted her. " _Maybe_ I believe you. I just don't know why you've suddenly changed your mind."

"I haven't changed my mind," Clessa huffed. It was annoying enough that the two hobbits facing her seemed like they were joined at the hip, but it was even more annoying when Merry kept finding ways to drop her in it. Why did he always have to be around too? "I just don't feel the need to go just yet."

"I believe you," Pippin piped up. He'd been watching the exchange quietly, but his words and his expression were sincere.

"Thank you." Clessa found herself blushing and quickly busied herself with swigging the last dregs of her ale.

Pippin's flagon soon joined hers and Merry's already empty one on the table. "I'll go and get us some more drinks," he said obligingly, climbing down from his stool and disappearing amongst the crowd of people in the small pub. Her cheeks now cooling, Clessa watched until she could no longer see him past some of the taller hobbits.

"You know what you could do?" Merry said loudly, interrupting her daydream and making her jump. She turned and gave him a quizzical look. "You could just admit the real reason you want to stay in the Shire and forget all your sorry excuses."

"What?" As Merry inclined his head pointedly in the direction of the bar, Clessa felt her face flood with heat again. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. I'm not as clueless as Pip is," said Merry, making Clessa wonder if all the times he'd dropped her into an awkward situation hadn't been coincidental after all. When she didn't say anything, he prompted, "Why don't you just tell him?"

Clessa didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the table in front of her. "I'm scared he might not want me to stay," she admitted quietly.

"You know he'd miss you if you left."

Clessa was silent again. She didn't know whether to believe Merry or not, and not just because he was a known trickster. She hadn't meant for any of this to happen. She'd intended to come back to the Shire for a little while and rest up, tell her stories, then head off on her next adventure - find new places, new friends, maybe even love. She hadn't expected to end up finding that here.

"As I said, Pip's clueless," Merry continued, sensing that Clessa wasn't going to say anymore; let alone act on it. "So unless you tell him otherwise, he'll keep believing every story you tell him."

If only it that was simple, thought Clessa. She knew she couldn't keep making them all her life, but excuses just happened to be so much easier.


End file.
